


Different

by nausicaa_of_phaeacia



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Post "Chosen", Post Season 07, Post Series, Post Sunnydale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1219036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_of_phaeacia/pseuds/nausicaa_of_phaeacia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few years after Sunnydale, Xander kind of runs into Faith in a bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different

**Author's Note:**

> Another idea I've had at night, hope the fic still turned out okay!  
> I don't own anything except the stuff I thought up myself :)
> 
> Un-betaed, forgive me my typos please.

He accidentally meets her again in a bar nobody would recommend. It’s a shady, ragged place, where you can tell at first sight that the clientèle’s hundred percent consist of people who’ve lost a relatively huge chunk of themselves somewhere along the way. And that’s not even counting the physical stuff, although, hey, he’s sure that having lost an eye, he’d rank pretty high in that. Although, to be fair, this isn’t a demon bar, because he wouldn’t stand a chance in one of those. 

It’s only the second time he’s ever come here, the only other one being during the one road trip he made during Sunnydale times. Sunnydale, huh. All gone and replaced by a huge bit of nothing in the middle of, well, also nothing. Not much of a loss in terms of landscape, but oh, of people though. And memories. He feels as though all the pictures he’s had inside his head, all those that were connected to a spot there, are gone. Sure, not everything’s left, and some things, some people are still quite vivid in his mind. Anya, mostly. He takes a large gulp of his drink, and swallowing it tastes more bitter than usual. Although, even Anya has lost colour. Her lips aren’t quite as red, her laughter isn’t quite as convincing anymore. He feels like crying, but thinks he’s forgotten to do that somewhere along the way. Stuff’s different now.

That’s when he sees her: Faith, discernibly tipsy, but as attractive and presumably also as strong as ever, trying to talk the bartender into serving her another shot of something that looks suspiciously transparent. Well, that’s none of his business. Still, it’s Faith, so in some respects, it would only be fair and polite to greet her. Right?  
As he approaches her, drink in hand, he overhears her having a pretty uninteresting conversation with a fellow that looks just as uninteresting, and as he’s getting closer and closer, bumping into people who probably haven’t been sober during daytime in a very long while, he hears a cynicism so sharp drip from her every word that it almost makes him turn around and leave. Sarcasm, yes, that’s pure Faith. But this, this bitterness - ? That’s nothing like her. At least, it wasn’t the last time he saw her, a month after Sunnydale. They had all gone separate ways, and Faith had left with Robin. Yeah, where was the guy anyway? 

She suddenly turns around, her wavy hair now covering a different part of her otherwise almost completely bare back. He wants to speak, but she’s surprised him, and he hasn’t thought of anything yet. His throat feels very dry. “Xander?,” she half-exclaims incredulously. He manages an awkward smile. She completely ignores the guy she was talking to and approaches him, a little bit insecure on her feet. Weird, he thinks, Faith should be one to know her limits. Then, there’s this moment in which, he knows, pretty much everyone would have hugged him, and there’s a kind of exceptionally shy hesitation in her movement, as if she were considering it, but then she just stops, her thumbs gliding into her pockets, and grins. “Been a while.”

He nods. “Yeah.” There is more he wants to say, goddamnit, but it’s all gone. Xander, the dumb guy, isn’t that what he’s always been to her? And she surprises him again: “Wanna go talk somewhere?” Again, he nods. Smooth. She gives a quick, almost military nod, walking back to her previous spot at the counter, saying something apparently insulting to the fellow, grabbing her drink. The shots, she just leaves there, he notices. Seeing her sway slightly makes him feel even more uncomfortable, but again, it’s none of his business. He follows her lead, and they go sit in a corner where it’s not as loud and crowded as around the counter, but shadier, too. Whatever, he almost shrugs, and they sit down on a couch about whose history he just doesn’t want to know. It’s almost a miracle, but somehow they get to have what among Sunnydalers could very easily pass as a normal conversation. They exchange the basics: Xander’s working here, in L.A., in construction again, only now it’s an office job. It’s all he can do with his pirate eye, but hey, it’s also worth more money. He asks about her, and she hesitates, giving elusive answers. Apparently, she’s been doing a lot of small stuff, changing jobs all the time. 

People passing by their couch keep greeting her, giving her embarassingly dirty smiles, or so he thinks. After one particularly disgusting grin, he’s looking at her so questioningly that she feels cornered, telling him that sometimes, on weekends, she dances here. He looks confused, then, the message gets delivered. “Oh,” he manages, hoping that the bar’s dark enough to hide his sudden blush. He’s not sure how to react, not wanting to embarass her, but she navigates around the awkwardness. “Hey, it’s good money, ya know?” He nods. Again. Her speech is slightly slurred, but as one of the waitresses comes to check on them, she orders another drink. He only watches, briefly considering pity, but almost immediately getting angry himself for having such thoughts at all. Faith has always been the strong one, right? The unbreakable, untouchable one. 

Compared to the memories he has of her, though, she’s falling apart pretty quickly. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Somehow, they’ve steered the conversation to past loves and non-existent current relationships. Xander briefly pioneers into the subject of Anya, not having spoken of her in years, and Faith gets all teary-eyed (it must be the drinks, he keeps telling himself, because it’s so untypical). That wrapped up, Xander feeling all empty but oddly okay, Faith immediately gets started on Robin, ordering another far too colourful drink (ye Gods, what is it with all that rainbow stuff, he wonders) halfway through it. He, too, is through his third one, but he’s lost count of hers, and she’s definitely had enough. But, once again: none of his business, he reminds his already a little hazy mind. Just to be sure to remember it. 

So, Robin’s left her, apparently. Peacefully, she keeps repeating, and no hard feelings, she murmurs. He doesn’t dare to ask what the problem was exactly, but it had to be something about Wood “not getting it”. He almost replies that one has to be a Sunnydale veteran to understand, but remembers that Wood was indeed there for the final battle. Well, maybe you had to be born and raised in Sunnydale, then. Who knows. Anyways, he probably could have predicted that their relationship wasn’t going to last. Although, from what he’s able to filter from her slightly confusing tale, they’d been together for two years at least. Impressive, he thinks, especially since he hasn’t been able to maintain anything for more than a few months ever since the Big Bang. He lets her talk, even though he knows that not interfering with her story is even going to make her more emotional and un-Faith-ish. He does feel guilty about it, but also helpless, because hey, they’ve never really been friends at all, let alone particularly good ones. 

And then suddenly, just as he thinks he probably anticipated it, the dam breaks, and it feels as though his heart’s breaking into pieces, because hey, nobody has ever ever ever ever ever seen Faith cry. She’s all wobbly and fluffy and her hair’s just a huge mess, and suddenly she’s clinging onto him and he’s hugging her back. She keeps saying it’s her fault, and he doesn’t even really hear himself answering, but he’s repeating something along the lines that she’s worth so much more, that she’s the strongest person he has ever known, that it’s not about something she did, that’s she’s just awesome but bad luck and shit happens. But hell, his mind is already clouded, and it sucks. She’s pressing herself against his side, and it’s all weird because hey, there’s this one time they’ve slept with each other, or rather, the time where Faith triumphantly rode him, “steering him around the curves”, and he just doesn’t know what to think. 

Next thing he knows, she’s kind of on top of him on this disgusting couch, pressing her hips against his groin, and he knows he can’t help but react to the friction. She’s still kind of crying and everything’s just such a mess. She keeps thrusting surprisingly gently, but unmistakeably, and he knows it’s all kinds of wrong. Wrong, because she’s kind of wasted and he’s kind of drunk and they’re kind of not even friends and this place just ... He puts two firms hands on her hips, holding her back, making her stop, and she looks very forlorn, and about to start sobbing again. Crap, he thinks, trying to explain that it’s a public place and whatnot, and she does indeed start to cry again, saying that well, there you have it, decent guys like Xander don’t even want her anymore, that she’s just the toy of these disgusting creatures lurking around in this bar day and night, that voilà, she’s become too cheap for Xander. No, no, no, he holds her, hugs her, and it’s just weird because she’s still on top of him in this compromising position, but the hug is all non-sexual, or it would be, except that her hips are still swinging against his bulge very carefully. 

“Come on, Faith, let’s get you home,” he says, and the gentleness in his voice surprises even him. He fumbles and produces one of the bills from his pocket, waving it into the waitress’ direction, who just nods and makes a reassuring gesture, so he puts the bill onto the table, under a worn-out leather coaster, Faith still awkwardly clinging onto him, half-dried tears all over her cheeks, and strands of hair pointing to different directions, and her belly half-naked because her top’s not exactly where it belongs anymore. Xander’s maneuvering them out of the bar, and he’s sure they’re a pretty comic sight, because Faith doesn’t seem to know how to use her feet anymore, and he’s not feeling the steadiest himself, either. Well, no doubt, he’s still aware of how one’s supposed to use one’s legs for walking, so that’s a bonus, and he’s pretty sure his speech is still kind of socially acceptable. He thanks all the gods for the cab that happens to be outside in the right moment. Faith seems to have shut out reality, her face in Xander’s shoulder, so he tells the driver his own address.

Somehow, they’ve gotten up the few steps to the door, and he praises the Powers That Be. He kind of just drops Faith on his bed, because hey, he can’t lift her really. He goes to lock the front door, then goes to splash his face with cold water, removes his belt and just lets himself fall into bed next to her. After a moment, she clings onto him again, and it’s just awkward because they’re both so done, hey, so fucking done with everything, and he’s drunker than he’s been in years, no, okay, let’s be fair, make that months, and she’s just wasted and weak and teary-eyed and vulnerable. So he hugs her back, but that’s all, damnit. He doesn’t even know how to handle Faith being so, so ... small right now.

Some time before dawn, they wake up, or rather, her stirring wakes him up, and he probably wakes her by kind of stumbling to the bathroom in the dark. When he comes back, her position is different. As he lies down again, she turns to him again, he can hear it, and she seems to have sobered up quite a bit – as has he, his throbbing head tells him – because she’s half-whispering, voice raspy, “Are you okay?” He’s surprised. “Yeah ... you?” She might be nodding, but hell, it’s dark. “Yeah, I guess ... Sorry, Xan.” Now, he’s utterly, genuinely, goddamn fucking surprised, and his eyes are open. “For what?” Her arm’s across his belly again. “Tonight, I guess. And, uh ... last time.”  
He touches her arm with his fingertips. “Last time?,” he asks, although he knows exactly what she means. “Yeah ... ya know. My bed, my hotel room.” He swallows. “It’s fine,” and he knows that it must have been a real battle for her to even say those words. 

And those two words make her tear up again. He doesn’t know what to say, because this time, it feels different. Sure, neither of them is completely sober yet, but this isn’t the emotional drunk sobbing from the bar. This is different, and Faith feels so relieved, so goddamn free, it almost hurts, and at the same time, she’s so fucking embarassed. She starts pulling away, but that’s when Xander’s arms are all around her, holding her so tight that she doesn’t have the courage to escape. She could, that’s for sure, Slayer powers and all, but it ... it’s strangely okay to be held like that, and he’s whispering things to her, half of which she can’t really hear, but it’s about how she’s beautiful and amazing and mustn’t waste herself in a place like this, how she’s worth much more, and she feels her pride come back very slowly, on tiptoe probably, and her tears stop. 

She feels she’s been given something she didn’t deserve but really needed, and she doesn’t care to name it, because they are feelings and those are not really her thing, but it feels good. He’s still half-squeezing her, and she starts making those hip movements again, only this time, it’s not only gentle, it’s something one could probably even call loving if one were the type for naming emotions, which Faith clearly isn’t, and it’s slow and electrifying and too warm but so nice. He feels himself react to her again, but this time, he lets it happen, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she tells herself that he waited for her to get her pride back, to pull herself out of wherever she’d dug herself into. Their clothes leave the bed one after the other, and they’re still so close, and suddenly, they’re kissing and they both taste like alcohol and it’s still okay, because they’re holding each other tight and it’s still kind of dark outside, but you can already hear a few birds chirp. And it makes her smile, and she smiles through each and every one of his thrusts, and when they’re done and it’s kind of dawn outside, her smile’s still there. His fingers are in her hair, and while he can’t help being fucking scared and all, he smiles back as soon as he sees her beaming at him. This time, it sure as hell is different.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please tell me what you think :)


End file.
